


A Heavy Farewell

by machasw



Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Wakes & Funerals, the character death is pre-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22339159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machasw/pseuds/machasw
Summary: What do you say, when your friend is in pain? Which are the right words to give when they've lost someone precious? How can you comfort someone whose only family is gone?And what do you say when it's all your fault?
Relationships: Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid & Nakamori Aoko, Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid & Nakamori Ginzou, Nakamori Aoko & Nakamori Ginzou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	A Heavy Farewell

It was a perfect day.

The sky shone bright blue, broken only by the barest wisps of clouds. A gentle breeze stirred through the gathered crowd, rustling the grass and offering a blessed respite from the slowly receding heat of midday. A brightly-colored butterfly wobbled past, touching down on a blossom tucked into one of the dozens of bouquets. The air swam with the scent of sun and fresh earth and hundreds of flowers.

Kaito despised it.

It should have been cold. It should have been raining. It should have been dreary, world coated over by low clouds and clinging fog.

It wasn’t fair.

The world had no right to be beautiful and serene on a day like this.

He looked to the side, straining to find somewhere to look other than the sealed casket in front of him.

The grass was crowded with well-wishers, mourners, friends. The stony faces of dozens of police officers, off duty but in uniform. A handful of classmates in their own uniforms, standing clustered awkwardly together at the back of the group. Friends and acquaintances scattered and silent around him.

It was a large crowd but, somehow, everyone there seemed to be standing alone.

Hakuba was in attendance, though his usual dramatic flair hadn’t come with him. Instead he stood still, subdued, arms loose at his sides as he stared straight ahead. Chaki and Megure had both taken time off of work to come. Even Akako had made an appearance, for once sounding sincere as she offered condolences.

Keiko was there too, looking stricken and lost. Her hands twisted around each other in endless loops as she glanced, again and again, to the girl at her side.

Kaito had always been good at reading people. Their eyes, their faces, their emotions. At that moment, it felt like a curse.

He couldn’t seem to look at Aoko directly, couldn’t push through the knot in his stomach, the lump tearing at the inside of his throat. He couldn’t look at her without seeing the picture she held, framing her father’s smiling face. Without seeing her hands trembling, eyes red, face downcast.

He couldn’t look at her without remembering. The snap of a gunshot. The smell of powder and smoke. Her father’s silhouette, arms outstretched.

What could he say?

What could he _possibly_ say?

She’d had to plan the funeral alone. The police department had helped pay for it, at least, but Aoko had been the one forced to break the news. She’d had to choose a plot and a date and a time for the ceremony. She’d had to arrange all of it while fielding the hollow apologies and platitudes of dozens and dozens of sympathizers.

He remembered, just a little, what that was like.

The casket began to lower.

Aoko’s voice had trembled, earlier, as she presented her handwritten eulogy.

“Aoko’s dad… My dad,” she’d said, “was a good man. All of us wanted to keep him longer, even if it was just for a month, or a week, or a day. But his job was always going to be dangerous and we don’t always get what we want.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s gone. It’s not fair that none of us were there. It’s not fair that, no matter how long we wait for him, he’s never coming home.”

Her voice had broken then, but she kept going. “But we can choose how to remember him. Nakamori Ginzo is more than what we are putting to rest today. My dad is still alive in little ways. With all of the problems that he solved, the people he helped, and the smiles that he gave. He’s still with us because of the difference he made in our lives. And his memory will continue to be a blessing.

“Even though I won’t see him again,” the last words had wavered like she was choking on them, forcing them out from a closed-up throat, “he’s still my dad and I love him. That’s not ever going to change.”

The casket finished its journey, coming to rest out of sight, with no sound at all.

Kaito closed his eyes.

What could he say?

He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to dig deep inside and tear himself out of his own body, leaving behind a shell. If he forced himself to be somewhere else, to be someone other than himself, maybe he could find the right words. Or any words at all. If it wasn’t him, maybe he could offer some kind of comfort, be what Aoko needed him to be right then.

But he couldn’t. He had a lifetime of practice at lying and acting and none of it would come to him. His perfect performances, his menagerie of smiling, porcelain masks all came to nothing. None of his personas fit together properly to cover the raw, hollow ache in his chest. There was no poker face to cover the void that Inspector Nakamori had left behind.

There was nowhere for him to hide, no one else he could force himself to be. He could shove his emotions back and down until they stuck to the back of his ribcage, clogging his breath and clawing at his throat. But he couldn’t make them go away entirely.

What could he say?

He stood as the funeral came to an end. He stood as fresh loam and grass were pressed into place, until the grave was just a swell of greenery buried in florae. He stood as the crowd slowly began to disperse. They were split almost perfectly between those sharing lighthearted memories in an attempt to mitigate the grief, and those still consumed by it.

He stood until he and Aoko were almost alone, the few meters that separated them feeling like lightyears.

“Thank you for coming.”

Her voice was so soft that Kaito almost missed it, almost thought it was directed at someone else. It wasn’t the voice of the girl he knew. It wasn’t rambunctious or loud. There was no ‘bakaito’ or jokey aggression.

“It means a lot,” she said quietly. She was closer again, eyes were red and dry, staring dully at the ground in front of them.

What could he say?

_I’m sorry? I’m here for you? Let me know if there’s anything I can do?_

Those were all hollow, meaningless. Aoko had heard them all a hundred times already. Words like that were the same as silence.

_I was there. I couldn’t do anything. It was my fault._

How could he say something like that? What right did he have to tell her the truth now, after everything? Would it hurt her more knowing that Nakamori died as he’d always lived, protecting someone? Knowing that, if only her despised Kaitou Kid had died instead, her dad would still be there?

_It’s my fault that your dad is gone._

The emotions he thought he’d could hold in check bubbled up in the back of Katio’s throat, burning at him. He fought to keep from doubling over under the weight of it. His vision blurred, shoulders shaking under the weight of something intangible.

A hand caught his. Aoko was looking at him, he realized.

“Thank you,” she repeated, voice a little stronger. She didn’t let go. “I mean it.”

She wouldn’t say that if she knew, though. She wouldn’t want him there. She shouldn’t want him there. She should blame him. Reject him. Curse him.

He didn’t deserve thanks.

“I- I’m…I was...“ His tongue was too thick, struggling around the words.

He squeezed his hand. “Kaito is Kaito.”

He blinked hard, eyes skipping sideways and down until he finally forced himself to meet her gaze. She was staring at him, eyes suddenly intense, focused.

“Kaito has always just been Kaito. That hasn’t changed. And Aoko is glad that you’re here.”

The tears spilled over. Her hand was firm on his, warm and steady. He squeezed back, clinging to her just as much as she was to him.

“Of course,” Kaito said, “He was my family too.”

And really, that was all that could be said.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote a shorter version of this for a prompt-a-day thing but I ended up revisiting it months later, and here we are.
> 
> The prompt was "Family".


End file.
